


how could I stop caring?

by kixyme



Series: The Queen of His Chessboard [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream SMP Plot, Face Punching, Hurt/Comfort, Light Body Gore, Lots of plot, M/M, Post-Technoblade Execution on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Slow Burn, Time Skips, description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28472877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kixyme/pseuds/kixyme
Summary: Dream was a mastermind at planning, a jack of all trades, playing his friends as if they were members of a chessboard.But there was a fatal flaw to his plan.His queen on his chessboard may just mean more to him than he means to let on.—OR the one where Quackity schemes a plan against Dream and Tommy never betrayed Techno.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: The Queen of His Chessboard [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118615
Comments: 84
Kudos: 541





	1. Quackity I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I never see many fics regarding the plot in the Dream SMP and figured I’d write one! I’ll likely update pretty quickly, this will be a shorter fic.
> 
> As always, please do not bother the content creators with fanfics, and if they are uncomfortable with what is posted I will take it down! Thanks and enjoy reading! (Please mind the tags :) )
> 
> This story is Post-Technoblade Execution and is about how Dream is purposefully missing so that he can do things behind the scenes, all while the rest of the server is trying to tear him down. All the lore up until this first chapter is posted will be canon in the story :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quackity comes to a realization and tries to get L’Manberg on his side.

Quackity jolted, suddenly, throwing his quill to his desk. His whole body went still in shock. The quill stained the page, an official document for Tubbo to look over, approve, and sign off on later. His hands fell heavy into his lap, and he stared at the paper in dumbfounded awe.

He was always thinking. How do they get ahead, how do they get the upper hand? _How do they do it?_ He had too many enemies, so far dragged into politics it was impossible to escape. The only way to get one step ahead was some sort of elaborate plan. And the only people capable of such elaborate plans were he, Dream, and TommyInnit. Him, the President of El’ Rapids and counselman of L’Manburg, Dream, the notorious, two-faced dictator, and TommyInnit, the obnoxious ex-Vice President of L’Manburg and triple exilee. Quackity was carrying L’Manburg and El’ Rapids on his bony little shoulders.

He read the paper again, pausing on the last word and lifting his quill and cleaning it with a cloth before it stained anymore. His lips pressed together in grave realization, glancing at an old photo he’s had on his desk ever since he’d gotten in with Sapnap and Karl. Emphasis on old, he supposed, realizing he had all of his teeth in the photo, and Karl’s hair was still long. They’d chopped it short after his first death, so they could tend to the bleeding on his head from the explosion easier. And he’d kept it that way.

There were six of them in the photo. From left to right it was Quackity, Karl, Sapnap, George, Dream, and Punz. Callahan, he remembered, took the photo. They must have been drinking or something, for them to be so close together as they were. Karl has tight arms around he and Sapnap’s waist, and Punz on the end has his hands decidedly in his pockets, because in the middle were George and Dream.

Compared to the rest of them, Dream had height. But here he was shorter than Punz, chin on George’s shoulder and hands clearly on his waist, keeping him grounded. George’s smile was bashful, clearly annoyed with the man behind him. The dark flush on George’s cheeks, Quackity realized, probably wasn’t due to booze. One photo and Quackity had caught those he’d once considered friends in a scandal. 

George could claim he hated Dream with all of his heart, but could Dream say the same? Quackity squinted at the photo in the candlelight, screwing up his face so he could pretend he could read some sort of emotion on Dream’s ceramic, blank face. If it weren’t for that damned mask it would be the nail in Dream’s coffin, but he thinks that the way George was leaning into him, the way Dream’s hands were so protective around him, it was telling enough. And it told an entire novel.

He left the writ he was writing to be completed tomorrow, the idea brewing in his head more precedent, more important. He didn’t hesitate to shake his fiancées awake, climbing on top of them, balancing the candle in one hand on a dish. It’s only after he began to shake them awake he felt a tad guilty, their limbs tangled and their bodies warm. They were adorable, and he loved them. He will never say how they helped, how they taught him what love and genuine friendship was, but they have. He straddled Sapnap, rapidly losing patience as Karl stubbornly scrunched up his face, refusing to wake, as he shook his shoulder.

Sapnap’s hand slid subconsciously to his waist, and he muttered in his sleep.

“What’re you doin’?” He slurred tiredly, eyes shut. Karl turned and clung to Sapnap’s right arm. 

“Sap, wake up.” He ordered tightly, as softly as he could, grabbing the hand at his waist. “We need to talk.”

He groaned, squirming uncomfortably as he realized that he’s practically pinned, Karl clinging to his right, Quackity squeezing his hand and rendering his legs useless. His eyes opened with a start.

“What’s wrong?” He asked drearily, pulling his arm out of Karl’s clutches and sitting up. Karl’s eyes blinked open tiredly and lazily, before realizing both of his partners were awake. He moved to his elbows.

“What’s happening?” He asked, voice pitiful and hoarse from sleep. Quackity leaned and placed the candle to the side, hands moving to sit in his lap.

“I figured out how we take down Dream.” His grin turned nervous, and Karl’s eyes went wide. 

“For good?” Sapnap asked lowly, trying to blow the hair out of his eyes and failing. Quackity shook his head, sucking in his cheeks.

“No, no not for good,” He admitted, watching Karl wordlessly reach to the side and grab a hair tie, Sapnap wordlessly taking it from him. “But enough to fight back.”

“What are you planning?” Sapnap asked, pulling the hair out of his face and throwing it into a messy bun. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “We can’t do anything deceitful, or, like, under the table. I don’t want either of you dying, again.” Karl leaned against him, putting his head to his shoulder. 

The following day after Karl had been blown to pieces, Quackity had been settling things on the outside, tending to politics, leaving Karl to find Sapnap sobbing himself senseless. Karl wasn’t supposed to see him.

“I’m not planning anything, yet. We can’t do it alone, this time. We need L’Manburg to help us.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Karl asked, tone serious. He was done with this game of back and forth, impatient. Quackity found himself unable to look at them.

“Dream,” he began unsteadily, not believing the words as they left his lips, “He likes George, doesn’t he?” He chuckled, unable to cope with this newfound terror, exhilarating and at the same time awful. He chanced a glance up, and Sapnap’s face was carefully neutral.

“He’s betrayed us, Quackity.”

Quackity began to pick at a scar on the underside of his thumb. “I know he has, but… think _motive_. Why would he do that? Why did he take George’s kingship away?”

“He said it was because George was a bad king.” Karl inputted, obviously confused with the furrow of his eyebrows and the hard set of his eyes. Quackity nodded.

“You’re forgetting something. He also said it was because George had too many enemies. Taking George out of the position was his fucked way of _protecting_ him,” he turned to Sapnap. “Think about it. You’ve known him longer than we have—before L’Manburg, before everything, what were the chances of Dream _liking_ George?”

Sapnap stared at him, before dropping his eyes. Karl lined himself tighter to the side of his arm. “High.” His voice broke, cracked, and Quackity softened.

“I’m just saying. Dream might say he doesn’t care, but what if he does? What if…?”

“You’re saying we use George against him?” Karl asked, his voice softening. He sounded sorrowful. “Won’t George—”

 _“He’ll be in on it,_ ” Quackity quickly added. “He’s on our side, he’s not on Dream’s side. This would work. If we— if we stage it, make it seem like we’re mad at George…”

“Dream might intervene.” Sapnap breathed.

“Dream might come _back._ ” Quackity agreed. MIA was an understatement, regarding Dream. They’ve gone a solid two weeks and heard no word from him. It was unnerving, but the eyes were forever aimed solidly at their backs. They didn’t know how, but Dream was always watching, and it still felt so in his absence.

“So what are you going to do?” Karl asked, and Quackity sighed.

“I guess I’ll tell Tubbo about it tomorrow. This is, this is _big_. If Dream really thinks that we’re out to get George, who knows what he’ll do.” He felt solace wash over him at the thought. Freedom, a deep breath of fresh air, the ability to feel safe where he called home. All George had to do was play the damsel in distress.

—

There was no candle beside him, and he sat quill in hand with Karl hovering, his hands on his shoulders. He picked up where he left off. The end of the document read, “No intel has been gained on Dream. No one has had contact with Dream or has seen him in L’Manburg, El’ Rapids, or on Dream SMP land. Dream has severed connections—” it ended there. Because it was a lie. 

Dream thought he had severed connections, convinced himself that he hates all of his friends, but it wasn’t true. The fault to Dream’s logic was that try as he might he couldn’t begin to hate them. Any feelings he may have, especially for George, ran too deep, ran too rampant. As far as Quackity could tell, anyway, glancing at the photo again.

“Do you know what you’re telling Tubbo?” Karl asked.

“I’ll figure it out. This is the win we need. This is how we win, this is how we win the war.” Karl squeezed his shoulders. “He’ll go along with it.”

An hour later he’s in Tubbo’s house. Tubbo greeted him with a smile, as he always did. The smile was strained, because it had most certainly been to hell and back, and he remembered after months of forgetting, he’s a kid. _Seventeen_ , Quackity remembered. How he’d let that slip, how he’d forgotten, he’s not sure.

“What can I do for you Big Q?” He asked, squinting at the papers Quackity hands him.

“I have a proposition I think you’d want to hear Mr. President.” He grinned excitedly. Tubbo looked unsure.

“A proposition…” he echoed, and Quackity nodded.

“A plan to take Dream down.”

Tubbo blinked in surprise. “Dream? Why would we want to take Dream down?”

Quackity froze, and his face dropped in awe. “What? What the fuck do you mean, why would we want to take Dream down?”

Tubbo’s hands flew up in defense. “I’m just saying, Big Q. Dream’s been… nice to us.”

“Nice to us? This is the guy who threatened to massacre everyone if we didn’t exile Tommy.”

Tubbo’s lips pursed. “That was months ago,” he said. He brightened his tone. “As of _late_ , Dream’s been nice to us.”

“Dream hasn’t been here.” Quackity muttered, and Tubbo shrugged.

“He’s left us alone.”

“But, but…” Quackity struggled for words. How the hell was he supposed to convince him like this? Tubbo wasn’t seeing sense. Was he purposefully forgetting everything Dream’s done out of _convenience?_ “What about when he comes back? What if he finds some other fucking thing to be mad at, Tubbo?” Quackity asked, and Tubbo frowned, cheeks losing their color. He pointedly looked to the ground.

“Quackity, we can’t _afford_ fighting Dream anymore.” And Tubbo didn’t have to elaborate. Quackity knew it was true, however much they may outnumber him.

“But there’s a catch.” Quackity pointed out, and Tubbo looked as if he didn't believe him. “What does Dream care about?” He asked, and Tubbo raised a brow.

“Didn't he say that all he cared about was Tommy’s disks? You were there, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, the disks, but what if he was lying? What if there’s something else?”

Tubbo blinked. “Technoblade’s items?”

“No, no, more important, more important.” Quackity dismissed. Tubbo went silent.

“Big Q, I’m kind of at a loss here…” he half-heartedly chuckled, and Quackity rolled his eyes.

“ _George_.” Quackity answered, as if that would explain everything, but the air of confusion on Tubbo’s face remained.

“What would he want with George?”

“What _wouldn’t_ he want with George?” Quackity replied coyly, smiling wildly, and Tubbo’s head tilted to the side, as if he were a confused puppy.

“Is Dream not engaged to Fundy?” He asked, and Quackity nodded, throwing a hand to his shoulder.

“ _Exactly_. Dream can’t admit he likes George, because the guy has a _fiancée_.” The puzzle pieces were sliding together, falling into place at his fingertips. “It’s a scandal, Tubbo.”

“This is…”

“Great!”

“ _Concerning_.” Tubbo finished, brushing his hand off.

Quackity groaned. “How is that concerning? This is a good thing!” He pleaded, but it landed on deaf ears.

“What if this ends up a disaster, like all of your other plans?”

Quackity winced. “That was a low blow.”

“But it’s true. How did we manage screwing up Technoblade’s execution? How did _you_ end up dying instead? How had Dream _known?”_

The last question made Quackity take pause, and the silence fell thick around them. Why hadn’t he considered this question? Why hadn’t he asked? Horror settled itself deep in his stomach, enough to make him sick. All of those months ago, how _had_ Dream known? Why was Dream there, why had Punz attacked? Quackity met Tubbo’s eyes, unrelenting. He _knew._

There was a spy in L’Manburg.

“We can’t do anything.” Tubbo reiterated, and Quackity realized now more than ever how true that was. These weren’t excuses or cop outs, Tubbo wasn’t fucking with them... L’Manburg could not do anything.

“Okay,” Quackity murmured. “Okay then, forget it.”

“Big Q…” Tubbo sounded like he’s about to stop him from walking out the door, but he didn’t. He was trapped. The knob turned in his hand.

“I’ll see you later, Mr. President.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day! :)


	2. George I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is paid a visit by someone who hasn’t visited him alone in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the previous chapter! This story will switch between two perspectives each chapter, those being Quackity and George.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this George chapter! :)

_“What’s with the face, Dream?”_

_George turned over to his side, propping his head up on his elbow. From the angle, he could see some of Dream’s face, most of it hidden by the mask, but his scowl was obvious._

_It was midday and they were alone, laying in a field just outside the border of the Dream SMP. It was lovely, and George felt he could fall asleep like this. The sun beating down on them, the grass soft and a golden color._

_“Nothing, nothing,” Dream muttered, taking a deep breath. His arms were behind his head, and George watched him open his left eye. “I’m just tired of everything.” George smiled at him pitifully._

_“With Wilbur?”_

_“Wilbur and Tommy. I never wanted conflict here, and now we’re in an all-out war.”_

_“But we’re winning,” George said, and Dream sighed. “We were able to kill all of them, and Eret did great placing all of that TNT.”_

_“I just want it to be over with, already. They’re annoying.” Dream confided, crossing one leg over the other, and George giggled._

_“It’s over tomorrow.” George murmured, and Dream shifted._

_“It is,” He agreed. “_ Dawn, _or they die.”_

_George nudged him. “We should celebrate.”_

_Dream laughed. “Celebrate?” He asked, turning his head to face him. George was unaffected by the stare of the mask, and he grinned._

_“Yes. Go out and party, or whatever it is you and Sapnap do without me.” George explained, and Dream erupted into a fit of laughter. When he didn’t stop, George sat up, lips set solidly into a pout. “Stop that, why are you laughing?_ Dream _.” He pleaded. He rolled his eyes once more when Dream refused to stop, unable to catch his breath. “You’re an idiot, Dream.” He huffed, and finally Dream got control over himself._

_“Trying to get rid of me?” Dream asked, and George scoffed._

_“No.” He muttered, honest. “Why would I want to do that?” He asked, and Dream looked back up to the sky and shrugged his shoulders._

_“You don’t like partying.”_

_“But don’t you?”_

_“That’s Sapnap.” Dream corrected._

_George sighed. “Well, what_ would _you want to do?”_

_Dream paused. “It was your idea to begin with.” He pointed out. When George scoffed again Dream continued, “I just thought it was weird you suggested something where you wouldn’t be with me.”_

__Do you want me with you? _The thought came and went, for George to say. He swallowed._

_“Listen Dream, if you want to go partying—” he said instead, and Dream cut him off with a laugh._

_“No._ No _,” He chuckled. George watched his chest rise and fall. “I guess we could invite everyone over for drinks.” Dream suggested, and George scrunched up his nose. He decided it was for the best if he didn’t remind Dream that he didn’t drink._

_“Sure.” George said. Dream sat up suddenly and turned to face him, leaning in with his arms folded in his lap._

_“We can leave early; whenever you want.”_

_George stared up at him, where his eyes should be. He ignored the implications, bottom lip disappearing under bright teeth. He raised a brow, uncertain. Maybe Dream just wanted to be with him alone. “You mean it?”_

_Dream jostled his shoulder, voice softer. Always softer, always with George. “Of course I do.”_

_George shoved him back. “You really are such an idiot, Dream.”_

_Dream tried to shove him again, but George caught his arm, pushing it away. “Oh, come on. You love me, George.”_

_“I don’t.” Dream tried again, and George made an effort to push him away harder._

_“You do. It’s okay that you do.” Dream laughed, and George sighed, knowing this was a losing battle, that Dream was impossible to argue with._

_He forced himself to his feet, and held a hand out for Dream to grab. George stubbornly looked away as he took his hand, grounding his feet as he fought to hold Dream’s weight._

_When he stood, Dream didn’t let go._

_“What?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“Then why?” George asked bluntly, as he looked down at their hands, Dream’s fastened tightly in his._

_“Nothing.” Dream insisted, and George sighed in exasperation._

_“Fine.” George bit, and Dream chuckled._

_“Fine.” Dream smiled._

_When he intertwined their hands together, too worn to try and fight Dream anymore, George didn’t complain. They walked home._

—

George clapped his hands together, and coughed at the dust.

“Disgusting.” He muttered, to himself, at his furniture. His house was due a spring cleaning, apparently. He had no idea how it had gotten this bad, with the layer of dust feeling as if it were an inch thick.

He sighed and paced to his table, stripping himself. First were the gloves, then the helmet. He grabbed his bow off of his shoulder, and unslung the quiver of arrows resting on his other. He peeled off armor plates on his arms, his chest, kicked off his boots and shed the plates on his legs.

He sighed in relief, looking over all of the pieces of armor, all of his weapons. They took up his entire table. And this wasn’t even everything. He hadn’t gone out with his axe today, not moving from where it was sitting by the side of his bed.

George wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, pulling off his goggles and throwing them to a pile. As far as he was aware, things, for the time being, were peaceful. He heard no word from Quackity or Sapnap, and L’Manburg paid him little mind. He was left to his own devices for the day. 

A sliver of a day off, and he was using it to clean.

He padded into his bathroom in socks, glancing his supply closet up and down. There wasn’t much to go by. For having this house for a few months, now, one would have thought he’d have things necessary for _cleaning_. He supposed not, and dumbly settled on bath towels and a mixture of dish soap and water in a bucket.

He was making an effort, and that was what counted.

He was thankful Dream wasn’t here to make fun of him. He bit his thumb nail, straightening as he looked at his sorry pile of supplies. Dream would know what to do, what to get. But it would be at his own expense, Dream laughing at him and not letting him live it down. But Dream would help him until all of it was finished, no matter how long it would take.

_But Dream wasn’t there._

He dropped his arm and got to work with a sigh, drenching a towel in his bucket and throwing it to his floor with no plan. He moved furniture when he got to it, bumped his head on his table when he wasn’t paying enough attention, and laid on the floor staring at his ceiling for three minutes when he realized an hour had passed and not only did he have half the floor left but counters, his bathroom, the sink.

He almost cried in relief when he heard the knock on his door, and got to his feet immediately. 

He glanced through his window and opened the door immediately when he saw who it was.

“No one was in El’ Rapids this morning, where were you guys?” George asked as greeting and Sapnap looked him up and down, deftly avoiding the question.

“What were you _doing?_ ” He asked, raising an eyebrow at George’s knees and shirt, both soaked through.

“Cleaning,” George sighed, stepping aside and letting him see. “Help me, and I’ll owe you one.”

Sapnap eyed him for a minute, and George was confused at his silence for what should have been an easy reply. Sapnap shuffled, hesitating, before nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll help.”

“Thank god. And kick off your shoes— _seriously_ , I’ve been working all day and—”

“George, we need to talk.” He blurted, and George raised a brow.

“What’s going on? You’ve been weird all morning. You weren’t at El’ Rapids, you’re being weird _now—_ ”

Sapnap put up a hand to stop him, shutting the door behind him. “Quackity’s scheming again.”

George crossed his arms. “Okay? I don’t see why that—”

Sapnap grabbed him by the arm. “George, are you with El’ Rapids or not?”

George started in surprise, face angry. “ _What_? Why are you asking me this? Of course I’m with El’ Rapids why would you—”

“George.” Sapnap cut off his rambles, and stared him down, grip tightening.

“Yes I’m with El’ Rapids,” George pulled his arm away. “Sapnap, what’s going on?”

Sapnap crossed the floor and sat down in one of George’s chairs, adding his own helmet to George’s mess on the table. He leaned his elbows to his knees.

“Are you going to offer me a drink?”

“After you tell me what’s happening.” George snapped, crossing his arms. Sapnap sighed and intertwined his hands together. He was hesitating, and it made George nervous. Quackity was genius, George knew this. But for Sapnap to come to him first, _before Quackity_ , something was up.

“Well, nothings happening yet. But you’re a part of the plan and I just—”

“What does he have me doing? What’s it _for_?”

“George do you…” he struggled to get the words out, dragging his hand over his face. “Do you _like_ Dream?”

George paused. “No, of course not.” He laughed half-heartedly. “He’s betrayed us, Sapnap, why would I have any reason to—”

“He wants to use you to try and lure Dream out.”

George snorted. “Me? Why would he use _me_?” He bit the inside of his cheek.

Sapnap swallowed thickly. “Quackity thinks… he thinks Dream… he thinks Dream _likes you_.” He muttered. George dropped his arms.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Oh.”_

“So I just— I know how close you two were, I know that it might be too much, and that it might be a bad idea so I just—”

“I’ll do it.”

Sapnap looked up at him in shock.

“George you don’t—”

“I’ll do it,” George let his hands curl into fists. “It’s fine, I’ll go along with it.” Sapnap kept staring, and George bristled.

“What do I have left to lose? My husband’s left me, all of my friends are fighting one another, El’ Rapids is the only thing I have.” George wrung his hands. “I’m through with all of this. If Quackity thinks this is how we get to Dream, then I’ll do it.” He paused, and looked away. “Now, are you going to help me clean or are you going to sit there and take up space?” Sapnap stared at him for a long time. 

George couldn’t remember the last time it’d been just him and Sapnap together, without any distractions, without anyone else. They were the closest to Dream, undeniably. But now less than a year had passed, and all three of them had changed. Sapnap had more to worry about then just himself, Dream was juggling three or four independent nations and doing whatever the hell he was doing with the disks and George… was where? 

_What did George want anymore?_

Sapnap softened, and grinned at him. George snapped out of it when he stood, slapping a hand on his shoulder. He met his eye uncertaintly. “Not until after I’ve had my drink, Georgie.”

George narrowed his eyes. “I think I hate you.”

“Nope, you definitely love me.” Sapnap assured him, and George rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach with guilt.

“ _Sapnap_.”

“Nope, you do.” He finally looked around, eyes widening and his face scrunching with disdain. “George, this place is filthy!” He whined, and George glared at him. “I should’ve brought _Karl…_ “ He groaned, and George punched him in the shoulder as he turned into the kitchen to find himself something. “I guess I take what he and Quackity do for granted…” George let him trail off as he went, smile fading from his face.

This plan, Quackity’s _master plan,_ all because they thought Dream might see him as more than a friend? 

It sounded like a cruel joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day! :)


	3. Quackity II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quackity has a visitor, and he asks someone else to fight with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I’m trying to write this as fast as possible before anything major plot-wise happens ;w;
> 
> Brief disclaimer I should have added earlier, I know Quackity has said he’s uncomfortable being shipped with his friends. I am writing the pairing solely because it is canon on the SMP, and only as persona shipping. Making him or any other content creator uncomfortable is not my intention at all with this story, and I will gladly take it down if they want me to! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Also please mind the tags, I have added on since last time :)
> 
> EDIT 2/13/21: I decided that I no longer want the egg to be a known thing yet LOL I’m going to be making similar changes throughout the book

_Just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse._

He steeled himself, closing the door behind him and slipping on a smile, holding himself tight. The two men sitting at his table glanced up at him.

“Hello, Punz.”

“Quackity.” The man greeted with a nod, taking a sip of his drink, and Sapnap smiled at him, lifting his shoulder in a small shrug, as if to say _sorry_ , when Punz wasn’t looking.

Having Punz here, now of all times, was not a good thing. Had someone ratted them out already? He’d only told Sapnap, Karl, and _he just got back_ from his meeting with Tubbo. They wouldn’t tell Punz, _would they?_

Karl came out of their kitchen, holding a tray in his hands with drinks. Quackity pursed his lips, smile fading. He strode over to Karl before he got to the table and pressed his hand to his forearm, leaning into his ear.

“We need to talk.”

He walked the rest of the way into the kitchen, leaning against the counter and burying his face in his hands. _Damn, this was a mess_. One slip up and he was dead. _Actually dead._ He wasn’t going to go down without a fight. If Punz fucking knew, if Punz, the only other person in that old picture, the closest after George and Sapnap, _told Dream…_

_“You know what I hear you doing right now, Quackity? You know what I hear you fucking doing? I hear you crying about it.”_

“How was your talk with Tubbo?”

Quackity jumped at the voice, hands dropping from his face. He shivered, feeling sick at such an intrusive thought, such an intrusive, annoying memory. He pressed a finger to his lips quickly, wincing at Karl’s volume.

“Shhshhshh, what does Punz know?” Quackity pulled him in close by the arm, voice softening into a harsh whisper.

“Punz?” Karl raised a brow, getting the memo and lowering his voice. “What would Punz know?”

“Did you _tell him_?” Quackity asked hurriedly, and Karl shook his head.

“No! _No, he knows nothing_. Sap’s been keeping him busy, I have no idea why he’s here.”

“Punz stopped by just because he _wanted to stop by?”_

Karl shrugged. “Guess so,” He paused. “So wait, what happened with Tubbo?”

“He doesn’t want any part of the deal.” Quackity muttered, and Karl’s eyes went wide.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“It’s because he thinks there’s another spy. We can’t trust _anyone_ anymore.” Quackity explained, and Karl’s face rapidly lost color at the thought. “How else would have Dream known about Techno’s execution?” Karl’s gaze fell to Quackity’s mouth, where two of his teeth had been knocked out. “We can’t risk including L’Manburg if we want to actually _get something_ out of this.”

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll talk to Sapnap once Punz leaves.”

Karl tugged on his sleeve. “Oh, that reminds me, Sapnap talked to George.”

Quackity blinked. “He did?”

“Yeah, he went like an hour before you left and literally just got back. George forced him to clean his house.” He added with a giggle, and Quackity shook him by his shoulders.

“So, what’d he say?”

“Dunno yet, he and Punz walked in together. Sap pulled me aside to tell me real quick.”

“And Punz didn’t hear?”

“Well, he was hugging me, so—”

“Hey, what are you nerds doing in here?” Sapnap asked, peeking into the doorway with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head.

Quackity paled, spotting Punz behind him. “Nothing, we were just talking about L’Manburg stuff. Tubbo wants me to draft him _another_ fuckin’ paper.”

Sapnap slid an arm around Karl’s waist and pulled him into his side. “Damn,” he said, in sympathy, and turned to Karl. “Oh yeah, what’s for dinner?” He grinned and Karl scoffed, punching him in the side. Quackity watched in silence as Punz raided their fridge.

“Nuh-uh, you’re still cooking, mister. No way you’re getting out of that one.” Karl laughed, and Sapnap whined. Karl fixed him a glance. “What happened to _Mr. Chef?_ ” Karl teased with a maniacal giggle, an inside joke Quackity supposed, and Sapnap caved with another groan.

“Fine, _Jesus_.” He turned over his shoulder to Punz. “Hey man, you staying?” Punz looked up in surprise from over the door of their fridge, as if he’d been tuning out their conversation. Quackity tried not to show the fear on his face while trying to read _his_. What _the hell_ was Punz doing here?

“Nah, I’d better head out. Just wanted to stop by.”

“You doin’ anything later?” Sapnap asked, and Quackity gave him a silent plea to shut the hell up.

Punz raised an eyebrow. “Might stop by Sam’s later. Why?”

“So I can find an excuse to leave these two stupid _nerds_.” Sapnap laughed full-heartedly and Quackity rolled his eyes as a show, far too relieved for his exasperation to be genuine.

“Okay, fuck you too, Sapnap!” He exclaimed, and Karl punched him in the side again.  
“Yeah, what the honk!?”

Punz chuckled and gave Sapnap a pitying pat on the shoulder. “Catch you later, man?”

“Yup, see you dude.” Sapnap grinned, and they listened in terse silence as Punz found his own way out. The moment the door clicked shut, Quackity exhaled, his face matching Sapnap’s grimace.

“What the hell was that about?” Quackity asked, and Sapnap sighed, letting Karl slip out from under his arm.

“No clue. I went over to George’s house to brief him on the plan and he found me walking home. I thought it would be less suspicious if I… invited him here.” He explained, scratching the back of his neck. “All we talked about was the red crap that’s getting everywhere. He said nothing about Dream or El’ Rapids.” Karl went through the fridge and shoved the ingredients into Sapnap’s arms as he talked.

“Is George in?” Quackity asked, and Sapnap bit his lip.

“He said yeah, but he’s dogshit at lying. He doesn’t think the plan’ll work.” Sapnap said, getting the hint and starting their dinner. Quackity scrunched up his face.

“That’s because George’s oblivious. He _meant_ something to Dream, whether he believes it or not.” Quackity took a breath. “It’s _obvious_.”

They fell into silence, and Karl cleared his throat. “Quackity?”

He took a minute, and then realized. _Shit, he was losing it wasn’t he?_ “I talked to Tubbo, he wants nothing to do with the plan.”

Sapnap snorted. “What? Why wouldn’t he?”

“He thinks there’s spies in L’Manburg. How else would have Dream known about Technoblade’s Execution if someone hadn’t have told him?” Quackity explained, reiterating what he said to Karl earlier.

Sapnap went silent for a minute, before hissing a “ _Shit,_ ” he stopped his chopping to look at him. “What the hell do we do now?”

Quackity shrugged. “‘Fuck if I know. That’s what we need to figure out.” He pinched his nose and sighed, back sinking into the counter. “L’Manburg was our only chance at fighting back.”

“L’Manburg was our only ally. Even if it’s just us against Dream, he still has the Badlands with him, doesn’t he? And that prison, he’d be able to put it to use.” Karl added, cupping a hand over his mouth as he tried to think. “Do we even have a chance?”

“The four of us against Dream, Dream’s spies, and the Badlands? No fucking way.” Quackity sighed, hand moving to rest atop his eyes. “Until we get the proper fighting power, the plan’s hopeless.”

“What if we do have the power?” Sapnap asked, and Quackity laughed.

“You’re not being serious, are you?”

“I am. There’s someone you haven’t asked yet.” Sapnap wasn’t looking at him, and Quackity felt sick.

“Sap.”

“I’m serious. Who else would be able to fight against Dream?”

“Sapnap, that guy fucking _killed_ me. _Twice_.”

“So we figure out a deal where you don’t get killed. What’s something he would want from Dream?”

“Tommy’s disks?” Karl piped up, and Sapnap nodded.

“It would work. We ask Dream to leave us the hell alone and do as we please, and for the disks back.”

Quackity fidgeted with the scar on his thumb again, praying his nerves didn’t show in his voice. “What if Techno doesn’t like the deal?”

“Then you bargain with him, man,” Sapnap turned to him, and softened when he saw his face. “If it’s in his best interest, he’ll listen. Techno— _and Tommy_ —are both too calculating to let that offer slip.”

“We could go with you?” Karl suggested, and Quackity pursed his lips.

“He wouldn’t want to see me,” Sapnap muttered before Quackity could answer. “Tommy, I mean. I was there when he was exiled, he probably thinks I’m still with Dream.”

“And If it goes bad, I don’t want El’ Rapids losing one more life than it has to.” Quackity murmured, blocking out what that would mean for him. It was the right thing to do. “I’ll go alone.”

He glanced up suddenly to find Sapnap handing him a plate of food, and he met his eye carefully.

“You’ll be fine. Okay?” He soothed, staring him down, and Quackity felt the stress in his shoulders leave, no longer tense. Karl put a hand to his shoulder, and he took the plate.

“Okay.”

—

“What?! How are you here?! How’d you know how to find us, Big Q?” Tommy shouted at him from a window, descending the stairs at a rapid pace to confront him outside. Quackity stood on their lawn alone, his footprints obvious in the snow. His grip tightened on the axe at his side as he watched Techno walk up to the same window, helmet off and hair falling freely, mask nowhere to be found. He looked… exhausted.

“Tommy, for the hundredth time, L’Manburg tried to kill me.” He called out to them, and Quackity figured he suddenly knew why Technoblade was so exhausted. He glanced up at Tommy, standing a whole head taller. He looked confident, but not in the obnoxious, annoying way. He looked older, he looked mature. He looked as if he’d truly been to _hell and back_. Like _Tubbo._

“Why’re you here, Big Q?” Tommy asked, and Techno arrived at his side, helmet shoved on his head with little care, long hair sticking out every which way. His pickaxe was slung over his shoulder, and Quackity felt his mouth burn with phantom pain.

“A business proposition for you, gentleman.” Quackity grinned, though he didn’t feel good about this at all. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to run, hop into his boat, and jump into his fiancées’ arms the second he had the chance.

Tommy pulled a face and crossed his arms. “We want nothing to do with L’Manburg.”

“I’m not coming to you for L’Manburg, I’m coming to you as president of El’ Rapids. I have information you’d want to hear,” When Tommy and Techno exchange a glance, he quickly added, “Information about _Dream_.”

Being invited into Technoblade’s house must be a good thing, Quackity thought, trying desperately not to do anything wrong. Techno was staring him down, obviously not pleased with him being there. Quackity tried not to let the fact that Techno could kill him in less than a second bother him. Tommy gestured to a table and they sat, Techno sauntering over to lean on a counter by the entrance. So Quackity couldn’t escape.

Tommy cleared his throat. “So what’s this about Dream? You’ve seen him?”

“No, we haven’t seen him. But we figured out a way to lure him out and knock him down a peg.”

“Who’s we?” Techno interjected, and Quackity tried not flinch at the voice behind him, monotone and painfully unreadable.

“El’ Rapids. Me, Sapnap, Karl, and George.”

“So what’s this plan? Aren’t those three _with_ Dream?” Tommy asked, and Quackity made a face, disgusted.

“Fuck no, they all hate him. Dream’s killed Sapnap and fought against him _and_ he took away George’s kingship. We want to get him back.”

“So how? Dream hasn’t shown himself for weeks.”

“We use George,” Quackity said, and he felt as if he were being lit aflame with the glare aimed steadily at the back of his head. “Because George, besides your disks, is the only fucking thing Dream cares about.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, considering it. Quackity felt hope. “That does sound like Dream. When I was in Logstedshire, he did give me a suspicious trident, clearly meant for George. You raise a good point, Big Q.”

“We pretend we’re beating the shit out of George for a ransom. _We_ ask for independence and for Dream to leave us the fuck alone, and _you_ ask for your disks back. And if Dream doesn’t come, the pretty boy gets it.” He saw a sliver of a grin show itself on Tommy’s face, before Technoblade huffed behind him.

“All of this because Dream _might_ like George? Would Dream really fall for that?” He asked, clearly unimpressed. Quackity felt as if he were deflating.

He swallowed, turning over his shoulder to face him. “It wouldn’t hurt to try. This is the only thing we have over Dream, right now. And we are the only ones who can pull it off.” Quackity explained, and Techno cocked his head to the side.

“Really?”

“There are too many spies working for Dream. We have to catch him off guard with this _now_ before anyone finds out.”

Techno considered him.

“So what’s in it for me?” He asked.

“My _disks_ , Techno.” Tommy said, offended, and Techno narrowed his eyes.

“You’re asking me to go against Dream for your _music disks_?”

“You’d also be allied with El’ Rapids.” Quackity offered quietly, and Technoblade moved to rest his glare on him.

“You’re implying that I’d be allies with the one thing I have been clear saying I’d want nothing more than to destroy?” Techno asked, and Quackity bristled.

“Listen Techno, I’m just as fucking thrilled as you are to be here. But we don’t have a choice. If we want to get one up on Dream, we do it now or we _wait_. And who knows how goddamn long we’d be waiting for. We need him gone _now_.”

“Quackity, does anyone know where you are?” Technoblade asked, and Quackity felt his blood run cold.

“Sapnap and Karl.” He added quickly, and Technoblade grunted.

“I’m still seeing no reason why _I_ should have to fight Dream.” Technoblade said.

“You know, Dream technically _is_ government, Techno.” Tommy said matter-of-factly, shrugging. “L’Manburg and El’ Rapids may be independent nations, but Dream still has jurisdiction over them. They can’t do shit if they don’t get his approval, or if he gets his panties in a twist.” He pointed out, and Quackity nodded hurriedly, thankful Tommy was so easy to pit against Dream.

“You see, Techno? Keeping Dream around is only going to make things worse.”

“You’re going into this only asking for independence and _disks?_ Who says Dream won’t be ready to fight for all of it back in the next week?” Techno retorted.

“So we ask for more, Techno.” Tommy suggested simply, throwing his hands up as if that part of the plan didn’t matter. “However much we need to hurt him.”

“Yes, because George is _definitely_ a good bargain.” He muttered sarcastically, and Tommy groaned.

Quackity fidgeted, nervous. He was losing him. “Well, if Dream thinks we’re about to kill him…”

“ _This might work_. Come on, Techno. This is how we stand up to Dream. Remember the to-do list? The thing I added to it?” He pleaded, and Techno glared at them, thinking.

Several tense seconds passed, and Quackity thought better than to start mumbling prayers for his life.

“Fine,” he said suddenly, and Quackity whipped around to stare at him in surprise. “On one condition.” He said, and Tommy faltered. He held up a hand and extended two fingers. “Both of you will owe me a _favor_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day! :)


	4. George II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan has begun, and George is beat up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY SOME DNF!! You’ll see what I’m talking about, it was a spur of the moment decision but I hope y’all like it.
> 
> Um anyway I’m not lying in the summary, please make sure you are comfortable with the tags before reading on! And if anything bothers you that isn’t in the tags please let me know!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, this chapter is a little longer than usual! :) also I know I have been updating daily, but the next chapter may take me a little longer sorry for that!

“What the hell?” George mumbled, sitting up with a start. There were footsteps outside. _Or was he just hearing things?_ He fought the urge to collapse into his pillows.

He blinked open his eyes tiredly, sitting for a minute just to see if he could hear anything else or if he were imagining things.

And then he heard his door knob turn.

Cold, blistering anxiety rushed through him immediately and he was wide awake. He groped for the axe still resting by the side of his bed and waited for movement, just to be certain. He could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

More footsteps this time, but now they were _inside the house_. And from what George could tell, there was more than one person. He sucked in his cheeks, stomach lurching, willing himself to fight at— _what was it_ —six in the morning? He may be outnumbered, but he could probably hurt at least one of them, right?

He kicked open his door. “What the fuck are you doing?” He shouted, axe raised, and Karl screamed. George paused with surprise, dropping the axe and letting its head hit the floor with a thump. Sapnap and Quackity were staring at him as if they’d been caught on a crime scene, Karl peeking out from behind Sapnap’s shoulder. 

All three of them were fully armored. George felt naked in his boxers, and stood straighter with confidence he did not feel.

“You—how did you get in?”

“You left the door unlocked, dude.” Sapnap said, tone guilty, and George sighed with exasperation.

“You could have _knocked,_ ” George muttered, rubbing at his eye with his free hand. “You all scared the shit at out of me.” He said crossly, and Quackity looked to the floor in apology.

“George, we have no time. We’re confronting Dream _today_.”

“Today? Sapnap, you didn’t tell me we were doing it so soon.” George murmured, face going pale. This was too soon. Way too soon. George had first learned of this plan _two days ago_. And now they were going to see Dream.

“Sorry, man. We’re running out of time.” Sapnap mumbled, and Quackity cleared his throat.

“It’s because we’re working with Technoblade. We’re going to his house now to go over our plan one last time.”

George scoffed. “Technoblade’s killed me. I’m not working with _him_.”

“Join the fucking party.” Quackity replied bitterly. “We don’t have a choice,” When he didn’t say anything Quackity continued, “George, we can’t back out now. This is for El’ Rapids, and Techno and Tommy are expecting us. I almost died a _third time_ trying to convince them. We either do this now, or we get our asses kicked by both Dream _and_ Technoblade. It’s all we got.”

George held his eyes for a few seconds before sighing with defeat. “Fine, let me just go get my armor—”

Sapnap and Quackity exchanged a glance. “Actually, George,” Sapnap started, voice cracking, “You probably shouldn’t. Technically, you’re our hostage now and—”

“First you tell me I have to work with Technoblade, and now you’re telling me to see him without armor?”

“When we announce to the SMP we have you hostage, you’re not going to be wearing armor there, either…” Karl murmured, and George started to regret agreeing to go along with them more than before.

“It’s just for today, George.” Quackity said, though he didn’t look as sorry as he sounded.

“But pants are probably a good idea.” Sapnap suggested, and George glared at him. He ignored Karl’s giggles and ducked back into his bedroom.

—

“Techno really lives this far out?” George asked, drawing his arms tighter over himself as it began to snow down around them. He could just see the shore in the horizon over Quackity’s shoulder, Karl and Sapnap in a boat behind them.

“He was retiring, and apparently that meant moving hundreds of chunks away.” Quackity muttered. 

“Tommy was also exiled near here,” Sapnap called out. “It’s a few hundred blocks that way.” he said, cocking his head to the side.

“Is everything still there?” George asked with a shiver, curious. He’d never been, and hadn’t thought to go in the last few months. He didn’t want to outright look for trouble.

“No, uhh… I think Dream blew it all up?” Karl said. “That’s what Punz said at least a few months ago, before Dream… you know.”

“Anyway, we’re almost there.” Quackity announced, slowing down as they docked onto the snow, coming to an abrupt stop. “Just a little walk.” He said as George hopped out of the boat, ducking his nose underneath the collar of his sweater. He should have layered more, only dressed in this too-thin sweater, work pants, and boots. And not having his axe or bow with him almost made him feel nauseous, relying solely on Sapnap, Quackity, and Karl for protection. One arrow slipping through their defenses and George would need stitches.

Karl lined himself to stand close beside him, bumping his arm.

“You alright George?”

“As good as I can be.” He mumbled, and Karl nodded tightly, sensing George wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

He blocked out the rest of what they were saying, blocked out _everything_ , and focused on walking, his boots sinking into the snow with every step. He didn’t want to think about Technoblade, he didn’t want to think about the plan, and he didn’t want to think about Dream.

—

 _This plan is ridiculous_. George thought to himself again, gaining feeling in his fingers as he sat to himself at a small table, everyone talking over him. This was insanity; why the hell did Technoblade agree to go along with this? Was George foolish for not seeing this plan’s potential the way Techno and Quackity did?

“So when we get there we’ll stand next to the portal, looking down on the community house. It’ll be a quick getaway if things go wrong.”

“But isn’t that dangerous? They could shoot us into the lava.” Karl said, but Quackity shook his head.

“The paths are pretty straight, and some of us can block the arrows from behind. That can be Sapnap and Technoblade, the rest of us will go forward and place the TNT at the portal.” Quackity explained, and Technoblade gave a single nod to the plan, encouraging him to continue.

“We give Dream five hours. If he doesn’t show… what do we do if he doesn’t show?” Quackity glanced up from his plans, eyes wide. They didn’t have a backup plan for that. Techno crossed his arms.

“Well, what’s the last thing Dream would want to happen?” Techno sighed.

“He wouldn’t want George to get hurt. That’s the whole point, right?” Sapnap asked, turning to him.

Techno tilted his head to the side. “We hurt George as a punishment. We’ve been over this, Quackity.”

“I know I know, I know that’s what I said but… that was always like a dismissive thing. We don’t have to _actually_ hurt him, do we boys?” He asked with half a laugh, and Technoblade’s mouth set into a frown.

“Frankly, George should _already_ be beat up. We’re supposed to hate him, so him showing up _unharmed_ to our confrontation would be suspicious.”

Tommy’s smile went wide, mischievous. “You’re telling me I get to beat the shit out of GeorgeNotFound?” He asked, and George glanced up suddenly.

“What?” He asked, hoping he’d just heard wrong. Maybe it was a good idea to pay attention. He glanced up at his friends, Sapnap, Quackity, and Karl, who were all looking at him as if they were _pitying him_. He turned to Technoblade for an answer.

“Any other case we’d be fine leaving the hostage as they are, but this is Dream and he has no reason to believe that you all turned on each other. We don’t have a choice.” Technoblade pointed out, clearly not as upset over this as George thought he should be.

Quackity put a hand to his shoulder, and he flinched. “This needs to be convincing, George,” he said, and he tightened his grip on his sleeve. “Techno’s right. Dream thinks we’re still friends and so we have to show him that we’re, you know, _not_.”

_Why did it feel like George always got the short end of the stick?_

In minutes he was standing, one arm in Quackity’s and the other in Sapnap’s. Karl had turned away, and Tommy watched, face unreadable, beside him. Technoblade stood in front of George, wrapping tape around his knuckles.

It was silent.

George felt his insides hollow, about to lose feeling in his legs. This felt like hell. This felt like betrayal, when he knew it wasn’t. He was apart of El’ Rapids, yes, but he didn’t know that would mean in time it’d warrant getting beat up by fucking _Technoblade._

“Shut your eyes. I’ll count down.” Techno ordered, and George did as he said, too sheepish and sick to his stomach to try and say anything. “I’ll count down from five. 5… 4… 3… 2...”

—

“George?”

“Dream, get out of my house.”

George’s hands shook, he was so upset, so embarrassed, and Dream was the last person he wanted to see. He braced himself on his table, willing the tears not to come. He screwed his eyes closed when he heard the door click shut behind him, knowing Dream hadn’t left like he’d asked.

Dream had just threatened El’ Rapids, and he, Quackity, Karl, and Sapnap argued for hours. He watched Sapnap aim his crossbow at Dream, listened dumbly as Sapnap pointed out to him that Dream was hardly on their side anymore, listened while Dream called Quackity a terrorist, listened to Karl blaming Dream and Eret for dying, and he just _watched._

“George.” Dream tried again, voice closer, and George whirled around to face him, fists balled at his sides. He should have known that Dream would follow him home. After Dream had left the Holy Lands, they retreated to El’ Rapids to speak among themselves, trying to figure out what the hell _to do_. An hour later George began to walk home alone.

And one rustle in the bushes and a quick glance over his shoulder and he knew.

“Leave me alone!” George shouted, and the mask gazed down on him forever neutral. It only made George angrier, and when George threw a fist Dream caught it with little effort.

He didn’t let go. “George, listen to me.”

“I think I’ve heard enough, Dream.” George scowled, trying to rip his wrist away. Dream’s hand tightened.

“No, you need to listen to me, George. Quackity and _all_ of El’ Rapids are being selfish. All of your arguments fall through. I’m trying to be _fair_.” Dream tried to explain, but George shook his head, struggling to pull his wrist away.

“ _Stop_! You don’t get it, Dream. There’s more to it than that we—” George snapped his mouth shut stubbornly, huffing when Dream refused to let him go. “Let me go and get out of my house!”

“No, we’re talking about this. Tell me, George,” Dream started, grip tightening on his wrist. He got closer until he was leaning over him, and George took a step backward. “Tell me what I _don’t get_.” He demanded, and George glared at him.

“Why don’t you stop treating me like a fucking idiot, Dream!” George shouted at him, and when he threatened to pull away Dream caught his other wrist, keeping George in front of him. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What are you talking about?” He yelled back, and George fumed, continuing to struggle.

“Dream, why are you even here? Why follow me home? Why pretend to _care_? All you ever do is lie to me and _pretend_ you like me and I’m sick of it!”

“What?” Dream flared, and George pulled harder at the vulnerability in his voice, the crack in confidence. “Why don’t you think I care?”

“Dream, when are you not fighting Sapnap or I?” George leveled seriously, and Dream recoiled in disbelief.

“The only reason I fight Sapnap is because he’s _wrong_. He was wrong at the Battle of the Lake, and he’s wrong now. And the only reason I’m fighting _you_ is because Quackity dragged you into it. You don’t care about the kingship George, they’ve just convinced you you do.” Dream countered. “George, look at me.”

He turned his head away and screwed his eyes shut. “Stop.”

“No.” Dream crowded him closer, refusing to relieve any hold he had on his wrists. “You’re my best friend, I’m not… I’m not letting you just _leave_ because Sapnap and Quackity are idiots. I want you _safe_.” He tried to explain, and George shook his head rapidly.

“You’re lying. You’re lying, Dream.”

“I’m not, George. It’s for you, it’s always been _for you_.” He paused, seething. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because you said it yourself! Are you serious, Dream?” George scoffed at him, cheeks going bright red as he worked himself up, showing easily on pale skin.

“Okay, fine, when?” He asked, and George stopped struggling, letting his arms hang in Dream’s hands. He couldn’t believe this.

“When Tommy threatened you.” He murmured, and Dream paused.

“ _What?_ ”

“Tommy threatened you with Spirit, and all you said you cared about were his _disks_.” George sighed, refusing to open his eyes. “You were playing with me all along, only keeping me around as another set of hands, making me think we were _friends—_ ”

“ _George_.” Dream warned, voice raising.

“You care about power, you care about control, the only reason you keep me around is because you think you can just _use me_ , you like that I do what you say because I trust you but the minute I fight back you want nothing to do with me—” He rambled on, body shaking with anger. He felt tears threaten to pool, realizing he’d been more affected by this than he thought. His hands trembled and his heart ached. Dream didn’t hesitate to shut him up.

He pinned him to the wall, George’s shoulders hitting with a thump. He couldn’t help the gasp of surprise leaving him, cutting off his sentence, air forced out of his body with a push. He fought to catch his breath, cheeks going scarlet. He glared up at Dream in furious disbelief. 

Dream stared down at him for a long time with the same rage. He moved George’s hands above his head, easily holding his wrists together with one hand. Sometimes, George forgot how large Dream was compared to him. How easily Dream could overpower him if he wanted.

Dream leaned closer, eyes meeting George’s as he removed the mask, tossing it to the floor at their feet.

“George,” Dream murmured, brows furrowed, eyes sad, voice _softer_ , “I _do_ care about you. I care _too much_.” and George dropped his eyes, scanning his face, watching his lips. Every time Dream showed his face, George was determined to commit it to memory. And every time George failed. There was no way he could put to words Dream’s bright yellow eyes, the cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He couldn’t.

But Dream’s nose was what stood out the most, likely why he opted to wear the mask all the time. The scar was thick, just missing his left eye and cutting diagonal across his nose and into his cheek. A chunk on the top of his nose had been ripped off, leaving the flesh ugly and ruined.

This was Dream, scars and all. George found that he didn’t care what he looked like, that Dream was _pretty_ , that Dream was great to be around whether he was wearing his mask or not. Except for now, when he was supposed to be mad at him. But… _was he anymore?_

Was Dream telling the truth all along?

“George?” Dream tried again, and George met his eyes again. His voice was even softer now. He sounded sorry, he sounded broken, he sounded tired. 

“Dream.” George breathed in reply after he’d calmed down. How was it that just Dream being there made him feel better, even if Dream was the one who’d made him upset in the first place? How could he make him forget so quickly?

Dream let go of his wrists, and even though they stung, George didn’t mind. He was close, so close, looking for _something, a conclusion, a distraction._

George wrung his hands, Dream still looking at him. George’s teeth ran over his bottom lip, and Dream’s eyes flitted down before they darted up again, as if it had never happened. “Dream?”

“Mhm.” He couldn’t speak.

“Can I…?” He asked, and after a minute Dream nodded nervously, moving closer. George’s hand timidly found his jaw, and Dream flinched into it, the feeling alien. _No one_ touched his face. But he didn’t oppose and George went further, feeling him, touching him, forgetting the anger just for a few minutes to take advantage of this, of Dream being in front of him, maskless.

Any sentiment and any anger Dream had died on his lips and he stood there, watching, content and rendered mute. George’s hand scaled his cheek, thumbed his cheekbone. It was no question that he’d seen Dream shirtless, whether it was to stitch him up after a fight gone wrong or if they were swimming, but he couldn’t help but notice that the freckles that washed over his back, covering him head to toe and bunching notably on his shoulders from the sun, spread to his face, spotting over his cheeks and sprinkled over his nose where it hadn’t been chopped off.

He had spaced out, and Dream took contented notice.

George met his eyes again and something had changed. Something dangerous, something unspoken. George’s hand went down, thumb resting on his chin before falling to his lips. Dream trembled beneath him, and George could hear his heart roaring in his ears.

George glanced up to meet Dream’s eyes again, curious, and then he couldn’t breathe. Dream was _on_ him, ridding him of breath, ridding him of sense, pushing him into the wall.

George kissed him back, hands falling to the sides of his face, fingers dragging at the hair on the back of his neck. Dream groaned and George pulled away, nose pressing into the side of Dream’s cheek as he caught his breath.

“Dream, we shouldn’t.” He breathed hurriedly, voice already wrecked. Dream pecked at his lips and George sighed, thumbs dusting over freckles. “You’re engaged.” George murmured, and Dream pecked at his lips again.

“I don’t care.” He replied, and George shuddered against him, Dream’s hands burning him through his shirt where they rested at his sides, unmoving.

“I’m _married_.” George resorted to as a retort, and Dream scoffed, tone darkening.

“Well he’s not here now, is he?” He murmured and George kissed him, cradling him closer, pulling him down, wanting him, wanting _Dream._

It was one night.

It didn’t matter, the kiss didn’t matter, the politics didn’t matter, any feelings George had didn’t matter. It was like he thought, Dream had just been looking for a distraction.

Dream was using him, Dream was lying to him, Dream didn’t care.

George… _didn’t care._

—

Techno’s fist made contact with his right eye on 2.

He cried out, going limp in his friends’ arms behind him. They struggled to hold him, and he groaned, willing himself not to tear up.

“Fucking hell, Techno,” Tommy hissed, looking at George with a grimace. “Did you really have to hit him that hard?” He asked, and Techno didn’t reply. Quackity and Sapnap exchanged a glance overhead that George couldn’t see.

“That should be enough. For now,” Technoblade said. “Mess him up more and we should be ready to head out.” He said, and turned away to grab items in his store. Sapnap and Quackity were gentle placing George down in a chair.

George let his head fall to the table with a groan, and Sapnap put a hand to his shoulder. He glanced up at him, and Karl who had turned back around winced at the sight of him.

“Did it bruise already?” George asked, voice hoarse from suppressing tears. Sapnap sucked in his cheeks and nodded quickly, telling him it was bright red, and George wasn’t sure he wanted to see.

Tommy, miraculously however, seemed to have a sliver of human decency. “Is that sweater at all important to you? We need to dirty it up.” Tommy said, getting up out of his seat and towering over the rest of them. George found himself unable to glance up, still reeling from the sudden pain. He couldn’t help but feel a little hate—more than he already did—toward Techno, going through his potion store as if nothing had happened.

“Do whatever you need to.” He muttered, and Tommy left without another word. A few seconds of silence later, no one in the room ready to break it, Tommy returned with armfuls of dirt. He dropped them to the table, and promised Techno he’d clean it later.

George bit down on his lip and squeezed his eyes shut as Quackity and Sapnap covered him, dirt smearing his shirt, his pants, and now his other cheek. He didn’t have it in him to shove Sapnap away when he took it a step farther, hands in his hair and screwing it up, dirt there too. Anything they did, now, George no longer had the energy to fight it. Not because he couldn’t fight, but because fighting back was ultimately pointless.

He wanted to bury his head in his arms and pretend none of this was happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day! :)


	5. Quackity III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is carried out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (SPOILERS FOR THE 2ND FESTIVAL)  
> I love how this fic has suddenly turned into “What would have happened if Tommy never betrayed Techno” and don’t worry I am still so pressed over that. I’m going to go run to borealtwt and hybridtwt to cope after this. /hj  
> (SPOILERS END)
> 
> I’m sorry for the wait on this chapter, school started for me again and I got busy ;w; and this chapter is all plot. The next chapter will be the last, and finally the DNF everyone’s been waiting for. I hope you enjoy, and again please mind the tags! :)

_“Schlatt, this is your fault and your fault only. You took down the White House. If you hadn’t taken down the White House we could have done something good to this country. But this is all on you, and anything that happens here now and out is all on you, Schlatt.”_

_“Says the guy who can’t even curl the fucking barbell, oh my god.” Schlatt retorted, smile on his face despite being unable to stand without stumbling. Quackity bristled with embarrassment, feeling all of the eyes in the van turn to him._

_“I tried to learn! I tried learning!” Quackity shouted, and Schlatt yelled nonsense over him. He wouldn’t listen. He never listened. He wouldn’t start now, not like this._

_“You can’t even curl a barbell!”_

_“I tried to impress you and you took down my fucking house!” Quackity screamed, shoving him away. Schlatt stumbled, just catching himself on a counter._

_…_

_“Schlatt?”_

—

George wasn’t talking to him.

And… Quackity couldn’t blame him. They were all lucky that George agreed to go through with the plan to begin with. Maybe this was George’s way of making up for not being there in the past, who knew.

Today was the day, and yet none of them seemed all too excited about it. Karl was downcast and nervous, Sapnap fidgety and irritable, and Quackity was holding on to a sliver of confidence, a sliver of hope, that his plan would not go to shit.

Tommy and Techno were the only ones unbothered by it all, and he could hardly be surprised at that. The only thing that surprised him was Tommy’s change. Undoubtedly the same kid, but it was almost as if there was something unhinged about him. Something that had transformed him, whether it was from exile or from living with Technoblade for the last few months. Quackity couldn’t place it.

They stood outside Technoblade’s portal in minutes. All that was left was to go through and face Dream. Quackity was doing the right thing for his country, wasn’t he? This was the _step_ , this was what they had to do, right?

He stepped through first, with Tommy and Technoblade close behind. 

Soon all six of them were through, and it was a weird feeling to have to sneak into the SMP like this. It made his stomach toss at the thought, wondering what it would be like if he were kicked out just as Tommy had been. If L’Manberg betrayed _him._

They paused and looked down at the community house in silence. George went to his knees in front of Techno. Sapnap stood straighter at his side.

And it had begun.

Thirty firework missiles later Dream’s attention had been grabbed, and he was terrifying. They watched as he walked from the community path to stand at the bottom of the steps to the portal to gaze up at them. It was unreal, for him to show up as quickly as he did. How could he go unseen for so long, and then show up in only a half an hour?

His hands were solidly in his pockets, an axe and crossbow slung over shoulders. Quackity cleared his throat.

“Dream. We will no longer abide by your rules. You will leave El’ Rapids the fuck alone and give us the discs, or George dies today.” He yelled down at him, and Dream wasn’t looking at him. Dream _ignored_ him, glossing him over as if he wasn’t even there. He was looking at Technoblade, looming over George who was staring steadily at Dream. Quackity felt his control slipping by the second and begged internally for Technoblade to stick to the deal.

“Techno, what are you doing?” Dream asked.

“El’ Rapids wants freedom, and I want Tommy’s discs.” Techno repeated. Dream’s head suddenly turned to Tommy, who went rigid.

“Do you think this is a good idea, Tommy?”

Tommy hesitated. He didn’t say yes. “We outnumber you, Dream,” Tommy replied unsteadily, meeting his gaze. “We could kill you right now.”

Dream didn’t move. “Outnumbered?” He asked, and suddenly people appeared with no warning. Quackity watched in horror as Badboyhalo, Ant, Sam, Captain Puffy, Hbomb, and Eret arrived, moving to stand behind him in seconds.

Now _they_ were outnumbered.

Dream looked confident, standing with so many, and to Quackity’s surprise Techno spoke first. “I think you should go along with the deal, Dream.” He said, and Quackity silently cheered. He was completely fine with Techno doing all the talking if it meant they were going to be free. He could debate with Dream anyday, but discussing the terms of a deal in turn for a hostage? He had a feeling Technoblade was far more experienced in that regard.

Dream chuckled. “Why is that, Techno?”

“Because I will murder George right now, Dream, if you don’t.” Techno replied easily.

Dream’s tone shifted. “Why are you working with them? How is this to _your_ benefit? El’ Rapids is a dictatorship run by an unfit ruler.”

“Dream, the discs.” Techno repeated, stepping completely over Dream’s questions. Quackity watched in secondhand terror as Techno’s pickaxe lifted from his shoulder and fell to the side of George’s face. George flinched at the coolness of the netherrite, digging into the underside of his jaw. He was entirely at Technoblade’s mercy. Or, for the sake of the plan, _Dream’s_ mercy. He swallowed.

“Techno, be serious. I’m not—” Quackity turned to Dream only for his sentence to be cut off by a cry, George falling forward, clutching and clawing at the side of his face where Quackity couldn’t see. Sapnap’s eyes went wide with incredulity, stiffening at the sight. _He couldn’t do anything._ Not when they were this far in. They had to do… whatever the hell this was, whatever the hell _that_ was. They had to finish it.

Techno pulled his pickaxe away in one quick movement only for the blood on his pickaxe to cut across and splatter the stone in front of them, as if he were drawing a line between them and Dream. Quackity shuddered, the blood dark and thick enough to see clearly at his feet. This was out of his control. He never had control over Technoblade, that just wasn’t how it worked, he supposed. Quackity had been stupid to think otherwise. He swallowed with the fear of uncertainty.

George’s sweater, a light baby blue, quickly turned red where he kept his sweater sleeve against his face. He didn’t dare to raise his head to face the people below them, too scared to do anything wrong with Techno so ready to hurt him. Dream was silent for what seemed like minutes, watching. Behind him, his allies were wincing with sympathy, gazes locked on George with sad eyes. Betrayal wasn’t pretty, wasn’t fun. And now it seemed as if Sapnap, Quackity, and Karl had turned their backs on him.

“What do you want, Techno?” Dream muttered, voice low.

“I want the discs, and Quackity’s nation wants to be free.” Techno replied just as evenly before, unbothered that George was openly bleeding at his feet. Dream hesitated, and pulled his hands out of his pockets. Bad began to step forward, and Dream’s arm darted out to stop him.

“I’m not going to do that.” Dream said.

“I will kill George,” Techno said. “I will kill him, and I will make it as painful as possible, Dream.” It didn’t take a genius to know that Technoblade was not bluffing. Quackity watched George look up, expecting him to turn to him and beg him to stop Techno and admit to Dream that this was all a lie, but he didn’t. Instead, George stared down at Dream in a silent plea.

Dream looked to Techno. “I’ll give you one disc, and El’ Rapids’ freedom.” Dream said, and the pickaxe fell to George’s shoulder. George cried out in terror, unable to help himself, and Quackity watched, helpless. Techno didn’t flinch, but Dream did.

“The discs. Now.” Techno ordered.

“You’re going to return George to us with no more injuries? Dream asked carefully, and Techno’s head tilted to the side.

“The discs, Dream.” He ignored him.

“Techno.” he said, and Quackity’s eyes went wide. One note of change, one word, and Quackity could hear the defeat in his voice. Dream was _losing_. Their plan was working after all. He glanced over at Sapnap and Karl, as if to share this excitement with them, but they didn’t look half as pleased. It was as if they thought George would die here. That Dream wouldn’t do it. 

“I can’t…” Dream trailed off, and Quackity paused. He wasn’t serious, was he? Any excitement he had seconds ago was replaced quickly by terror. Dream was supposed to agree, Dream was supposed to have a _choice_. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. “I am not giving you both of the discs.” He declared, and Techno hummed.

Quackity watched George stare down at Dream, sleeve soaked through of his own blood. He thought he saw sadness there, in brown eyes. He thought he saw something more. He didn’t want it to be true. George’s bottom lip disappeared under teeth as he stared.

Tommy was watching in awe by his side, and Quackity didn’t want to look at him. He felt sick.

“Are you offering another sort of exchange, Dream?” Techno asked, and he saw George’s body shake in relief, his sigh audible, almost a wail. He looked pitiful. He looked small, _helpless and vulnerable_ under Techno. Quackity gnawed his lip. _But all of that was the point, wasn’t it?_

He turned to Techno, lips pursed. _Why would he ask or try to alter things now? What was he playing at?_ What the hell was he thinking?

He kept his lips sealed.

“Give us George, Technoblade.”

Techno grinned, and Quackity felt his stomach twist. “Are you using that favor, Dream?” He asked, George willing himself not to recoil in disgust when Techno’s pickaxe moved back beneath his jaw. Quackity’s eyes went wider and his hands curled into fists. _What favor?_

Sapnap turned to Dream in shock, and even Tommy’s face had slipped into a grimace. They could lose everything, all because Technoblade was in control of the situation. _Why couldn’t he bring himself to say anything? Why was he just watching?_ Why was Quackity still so afraid of standing up for himself?

Dream’s voice broke. “I am.”

Techno’s smile went wider. “Bring me the disc, first.” He ordered, and to Quackity’s surprise Dream obliged. He opened his chest and there was the disc, the only thing keeping Tommy going. The only thing that encouraged war on the server, the thief returning it to the rightful owner. 

“Tommy, go get it.” Techno ordered, and Tommy happily obliged, brushing by Quackity and descending the steps without another thought. Quackity stared in awe. Was it over? Was the deal… _actually going through?_

Once Tommy had made it back Quackity stepped forward, letting Tommy slip behind him. He had to ask. “Dream, El’ Rapids. You’ll leave us alone?”

“I will not agree until you hand over George.” Dream demanded, and Quackity huffed, screwing up his face.

“Dream, if you don’t _fucking—_ ”

“Tommy, now!” 

Quackity didn’t register what was happening until it was too late. He turned behind him where he knew Tommy had gone, and froze. Just behind the portal, out of sight of anyone not paying attention, were three withers, all only missing one head.

Fuck, he’d been too busy watching Dream to watch _Tommy_. He was supposed to be his ally— _what was happening?_ Tommy grinned wildly, Techno’s pickaxe pressing into George’s throat, rendering Dream unable to move.

Sapnap roared, and tore toward Techno. George was forced to his knees, and the pickaxe dug into his flesh. Sapnap stopped the minute he realized, Karl tugging him back fearfully by the arm before he did anything stupid. There weren’t two sides anymore. There were three, and Technoblade was _winning._

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Sapnap. Make any move toward me or my partner and he dies.” Techno announced, and Tommy fished in his satchel for TNT. Quackity felt fear, cold and numbing. The portal. _Nowhere for them to run._ Tommy threw the TNT all around them, all over the portal, everywhere. It was the TNT they were supposed to use for _their_ plan. Not whatever the hell this plan was.

“Techno, we had a deal,” Quackity raged lowly, hands curling back to fists. “We had a deal, and you betrayed it.”

“You had a plan, Quackity. This wasn’t a deal.” Techno said, and stepped backwards, forcing George to his feet. He was trembling, covered in his own blood from where Techno’s pickaxe had brushed across his sweater, and from when he tried to quell most of it with his sleeve. He held the underside of the pickaxe in vain, trying to keep it from choking him as Techno pulled him backward. Technoblade could murder George. Technoblade could take his second life right then without so much as an afterthought. 

Techno and Tommy walked backwards until they were inside the portal, grinning triumphantly. They had won. It was too easy, so very easy.

Quackity was a fool to trust them.

The skulls were placed seconds later, and the fuse of the TNT was lit, Tommy dropping it into the pile with the others. Techno laughed, evil and menacing.

“Death to all government!” He shouted, and he and Tommy were gone. George dropped from the portal, catching himself on his hands and heaving, too shocked to move, frozen where he was, on his hands and knees. His breaths were rapid and frantic, hands pressing on the sides of his face timidly as if to check he were still alive and not dead. Quackity watched blood drop from his other cheek and suddenly Sapnap was on him, jolting him back to focus.

“We have to go,” he said, grip as tough as iron on his arm. Quackity gaped at him and at the withers, slowly coming awake and taking flight. Over Sapnap’s shoulder he watched the TNT explode, shrouding George in smoke and debris.

“We have to get George!” Quackity shouted, but Sapnap pulled on him, dragging him away.

“They’ll slaughter us. We can’t. We can’t.” Sapnap was begging for him to follow, voice cracking. His eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking from the adrenaline, staring down at Quackity and not waiting for a response as he continued to drag him by the arm. But Sapnap was right.

The group below were quickly making their way up the steps. If the three of them stayed any longer, they would die. They wouldn’t be able to go back for George and then carry him to wherever the hell they were going. Dream would murder them without hesitation. They started off with no idea of a destination, running as if their lives depended on it. And with the withers looming over them, and Dream likely on their tails, their lives _did_ depend on it.

Karl screamed and Quackity whipped over his shoulder to find a skull rocketing toward him. Sapnap body checked him, shoving him aside, and Sap threw up his shield as he fell, taking the brunt of the attack. Karl’s hands were grabbing for him behind Sapnap, pulling at anything of Quackity’s he could get ahold of, forcing him to his feet.

But Quackity wasn’t watching, he wasn’t paying any attention to Sapnap, any attention to Karl. He was watching George with morbid curiosity. George hadn’t moved from where they had left him, huddled over himself. He hadn’t gotten up. He hadn’t tried to get to safety in the ten seconds that everything had happened, and they had left him there with three withers circling over his head. 

Dream wasn’t fast enough. He was fast, had always been fast, but even as he tore toward George they all knew firsthand which would be faster, between mob and human. Dream didn’t have a chance, and Quackity refused to tear his eyes away as he watched the skull plummet toward George, frozen in shock. Even as Sapnap and Karl began to drag him in the opposite direction, he forced himself to watch.

The skull hit. George collapsed at the impact.

Quackity felt sick. “Get up, George,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “ _Get up!_ ” Karl and Sapnap tugged on him harder, Quackity unable to dislodge himself. He felt tears pool in his eyes at the realization of what had happened. 

George didn’t move.

Someone screamed.

It was all his fault.

—

_“You know what I hear you doing right now, Quackity? You know what I hear you fucking doing? I hear you crying about it!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day, and I hope you enjoy the last chapter coming soon! :)


	6. George III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT this may be a long note because this is the last chapter for this little fic. It started off as entirely self-indulgent and will now finish as self-indulgent. This is my first DNF fic and who knows if this turned out alright I speedran this fic so hard ;w;
> 
> We have a lot of appearances in this chapter--listen guys I did not watch Sam lie to Fundy and 5uppp on a Cogchamp stream to their faces for twenty minutes to not include him. I am counting down the days until someone is tossed into the prison and Sam is included in the lore so we can get more of that acting in the main story!!
> 
> Okay, okay I’m going to cut myself off! I hope you enjoyed reading, this chapter is much much longer than the rest. :) I’d love to talk about what you thought about it in the comments!!
> 
> CW: CPR is done here and it needs to be said not to attempt it yourself unless you are certified. I am certified, but reading what I’ve written and trying to copy it is not safe!! Call for emergency help instead and take the correct precautions!!

“Oh, he’ll be okay.” The voice was comforting, exasperated in a caring, knowing way. “Look, he’s waking up.” Bad’s voice, George realized, lashes fluttering as he came to his senses, eyes blurring as he woke.

_Where was he?_

Quackity. Technoblade. Dream. The _withers._

George gasped, body lurching into action, eyes suddenly wide. The movement upset him and he winced, crying out in pain and quickly laying back down to lessen it. Bad rushed forward to shove pillows beneath him to prop him up. His hand, clammy and sweaty, was held tight in someone else’s. He blinked blearily to his left and met golden eyes leaned close to his face.

“George?” They squeezed tighter, two large hands clasped over his one. George blinked, looking from Bad to Dream. Bad smiled nicely at him, as if the gloves he were wearing weren’t stained with blood. George went even more pale then he already was at the sight, knowing whose blood that was, and his face dropped. He turned to Dream, who had two elbows on the bed next to him, hand wrapped still entirely in his. He looked wrecked.

“What happened?” George mumbled pitifully. “What happened to me?” He asked, and Dream sighed in relief, bowing his head forward and pressing their hands to his forehead, relishing in George’s conscious knuckles at his hairline.

Bad smiled politely before moving to hover by the door. “I’m going to go clean up. Let me know if you need anything!” He left.

George’s hand was still pressed firmly to Dream’s forehead. “Dream?”

Dream lifted his head and met his eyes. His mask was nowhere in sight, and he swallowed thickly. “Are you… are you feeling okay?”

“Dream, what happened?” George didn’t have time for these games, sourly impatient and anxiety-ridden. He needed to know before anything else.

“You, uhm,” he exhaled shakely. “They used you as a hostage, George.” Dream said. George blinked at him and nodded.

“I remember that, but what happened…” he trailed off, just then noticing the distant pulse at the back of his head, drumming and making his head hurt. Dream’s thumb swiped across the bottom of his palm.

“After?” Dream asked, and George nodded, mouth pressed into a frown. “What do you remember?”

George looked up at the ceiling, shutting his eyes as his other hand slowly slid up to his cheek, pressing at the scar tissue there and the string of stitches. “This.” He sighed, and Dream nodded.

“After that, Techno took you hostage himself, betraying the others. They blew up the portal and spawned withers,” Dream paused. “Sapnap, Quackity, and Karl ran, and you were…” Dream didn’t finish his sentence.

“Dream?” George asked, and at his lack of a response he began to panic. This was where his memory failed him the most, only remembering Techno yelling in his ear, the netherite pickaxe choking him to death. “Dream, what happened to me?” He began to feel sick, and Dream squeezed his hand, bringing his knuckle to his lips. 

“I thought you were going to fucking die, George,” Dream breathed, eyes screwed shut and his lips brushing George’s skin. It burned his hand, already sweaty and gross, his breath hot and his lips fire. “I thought I was going to lose you, again.

“I saw the skull hit you, and I don’t know, I yelled at you or _something,_ Bad told me later. When I got to you, George, you weren’t breathing. I thought you were _gone._ I thought that they took you from me. I thought that they _took you,_ ” He breathed harshly, his exhale shaky. “I didn’t give a shit about the withers. I just, I don’t know. I was sitting with you, holding you up. I had you in my lap. I, uhm, made you hold my totem.” 

He pulled away, and George just noticed the golden trinket in their hands, held tight, Dream ensuring he wouldn’t let go. How long had Dream been sitting there, with his _own_ prized totem of undying, making sure George didn’t drop it? George met his eyes. “I don’t know how long I sat there, holding you like that. It’s like I was waiting for you to slip away from me and I… I couldn’t fucking do anything.” He looked away, moving George’s knuckle to rest on his cheek.

“They did CPR on you, George. Bad, Puffy, Hbomb and Eret were killing the withers, and Sam brought you back. I didn’t know what to do. _I didn’t know what to do._ ” Dream admitted, and George struggled to sit up straighter. Briefly Dream’s hands left his, falling behind his back to help him position the pillows better. Before he could pull away George grabbed his arm and clung to his sleeve. Dream continued. “Sam did the compressions. I helped when he asked me and I… you were still bleeding. It was bad. It was so fucking bad. It was only after one of the withers died we brought you here. I don’t know if we hurt you more, but we had to. Bad stitched you up here, and I haven’t left since.” Dream finished, dropping his eyes.

“How long was I out?” George asked, letting him go.

“A few hours.” 

“And you’ve…”

“I haven’t left.”

George turned away from him and looked around the room. No windows that he could see. This must be Bad’s house or something, the walls were made out of quartz. His house must have been the easiest to carry him to and the easiest to hide him in. He was in a guest bedroom he’d never seen before, and it looked like it must have been built for emergencies, judging by all of the medical equipment. Emergencies like this. George winced again when he breathed, face contorting quickly into a grimace.

“Why does my stomach hurt so badly? I thought Techno only got to my face.” George asked, and Dream stood, pursing his lips.

“You got hit by that wither skull, and then Sam might’ve broken a few of your ribs.” Dream pressed a hand to his forehead. It was cold against him, and judging by Dream’s expression that wasn’t a good thing.

_“Sam?”_

“CPR. It’s supposed to happen, I guess.” Dream turned over his shoulder and crossed the room to the sink.

George sighed with exasperation. “So I’m stuck here?” Dream looked him up and down.

“No, you should be able to walk and stuff.” He raised a brow, returning to the side of the bed. “You’re still a cleric, you know that right?” He asked with a grin and George rolled his eyes. Dream pressed water into his hands, and he gladly drank it before replying.

“I haven’t been a cleric in a long time.” He replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. He just realized he was shirtless. They must’ve cut his sweater off of him at some point, then. Dream chuckled down at him softly.

“You say that as if it’s been a decade.” Dream murmured, leaning forward and resting his chin on his arms, looking up at George with large, golden eyes. George scoffed.

“With how many times I’ve had to treat you and piece you back together it might as well have been.” George muttered and Dream laughed. Relishing in Dream’s attention, he continued. “I don’t know what I was thinking, treating these two idiot adventurers from several villages over all the time and then deciding to go _with them._ Worst mistake of my life.” George giggled and Dream laughed along with him, before his face set into something much more serious, as if he’d been forced to remember something terrible. George’s smile had also faded.

“What happened to him?” George asked, and Dream shook his head.

“I don’t know. Right now, I don’t give a fuck what happens to Sapnap. He used you, George. He used you and he—and he _hurt_ you,” Dream spat, and George dropped his eyes. “They ran off while we were dealing with the withers.”

“In the deal did you… grant them freedom?” George asked carefully, chancing a glance up. Dream’s face was blank.

“Do you want me to?” Dream asked, and the subject was dropped.

—

_”George!” His voice went hoarse as he tore toward him, terror making him sick as he went to his knees, grabbing the man by his shoulders and turning him to rest in his lap. He gripped his left hand feverently, forcing his totem of undying in his hand out of habit. George was limp in his arms, and Dream couldn’t take his hand away from his. Footsteps thundered around them, but it sounded like white._

_Dream heard nothing, he couldn’t discern words, couldn’t discern anything. Had he failed George? Was George going to lose his second life like this, knowing that he hadn’t gotten to him in time, knowing that Dream failed? He cradled his shoulder closer, staring down at him in numb fear. He didn’t know what to do. George was slipping, he was_ watching _George slip, waiting for the totem to slip from his hand and for George to be overcome by green magic, as if he were giving up. All just so that he could be here._ He didn’t know what to do. __

_A hand fell to his shoulder, startling him. He turned around, cradling George closer on instinct, to see Sam towering over him. The withers. Right._

_“Is he alive?” Sam asked, leaning down, and Dream couldn’t speak._

_“I-I…” Dream stuttered, stumbling as he looked from Sam to George. “I don’t know. He’s not—he’s not breathing.” He clumsily put his hand to his neck. “There’s—there’s no pulse.” Dream hurriedly choked out, and Sam nodded quickly, dropping to his knees beside him._

_“Lay him down. We’ll try to bring him back, okay?” Sam’s voice was comforting in a small way. He was older and when it mattered he acted like it as well, serving as a confidant for him from time to time, occasionally calming Dream’s nerves_ unintentionally. _He would listen to Sam ramble on about redstone and other mechanics Dream couldn’t begin to fathom, and he would feel better. Now, Dream looked at him in fear._

 _“What? We can’t,” Dream said, grip tightening. “We_ can’t, _because then I’ll have to let go and he might drop the totem and I can’t,_ I can’t do that _because—”_

 _“Dream, George is going to die if we don’t try.” Sam ordered softly, hand on his shoulder, and Dream shuddered._ Maybe he did have to try. _He had to try, didn’t he? George slipped from his lap to lay flat and Sam got to work immediately, Dream moving aside frozen, unable to do anything but watch, George’s hand still in his._

 _“Dream. Ventilations, now.” Sam ordered, and Dream nodded dumbly, getting to his knees beside him and leaning down without another thought. He took his mask off without hesitation, tilting George’s jaw to his before plugging his nose. He watched in awful curiosity as George’s chest rose with every breath, Dream desperately trying to breathe his own life into his. He wasn’t thinking about it, wasn’t thinking about George against him. He wanted George_ alive. _Nothing else mattered. Sam nodded approvingly at him and pumped his chest again, Dream willing himself to understand that Sam wasn’t hurting him. Sam wasn’t hurting him, he was just doing CPR, and George was still holding the totem._ George wasn’t going to die. _He leaned down and breathed again._

 _“Bad, go get bandages, he’s still bleeding!” Sam called over his shoulder as he went again. Dream sat kneeling at George’s side, staring down at him, waiting for movement. He didn’t care who saw his face, didn’t care who stared at him because they couldn’t discern who he was, realizing only after they saw his netherite armor and the axe slung across his shoulder that it was him._ He didn’t care.

 _He was just going through the motions, doing what Sam told him, because he couldn’t handle anything else. George was covered in dirt, his hair was mussed, his clothes and face were drenched in blood… he’d never seen George this bad. Not in all of their years together, not ever. Not even when Techno killed him the first time._ The first time. __

_Bad placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched. He whipped up to look up at him, Sam in the corner of his eye continuing his compressions. George wasn’t back yet, no pulse, no breathing, nothing. Dream willed himself not to think about it. Bad squeezed his shoulder, and he let go of the breath he’d been holding._

_“I’m going to put this bandage on so he doesn’t bleed anymore. Okay?” He asked, and Dream’s eyes dropped down to look at George before nodding, too wired and too emotionally drained to say anything. He_ couldn’t do this. _He couldn’t do this, waiting for George to come back to him like this._

_Sam jostled his shoulder and Dream went back down, watching diligently and making sure George’s chest rose with every breath._

_And then he moved._

_Dream pulled away with a surprise, relief washing over him instantly, ridding him of all other sense. He gaped at him, waiting for something else, waiting to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, that his heart didn’t ache the way it did for nothing. Sam leaned over to feel his pulse and he smiled._

_“Dream, Dream, is he breathing?” He asked, and Dream found himself nodding, leaning close enough to feel the breath on his face, unable to say anything. Sam sighed with relief and Bad cheered, pushing himself to his feet._

_Dream cradled George back into his lap, holding him and squeezing lightly as to not hurt him, holding his hand again with the totem. He didn’t realize he’d been shaking, didn’t realize how long they had been sitting like that, George warm and asleep, until Sam put a hand to his arm._

_“We have to move. We can’t keep him here.” Sam said, and Bad nodded, shielding his eyes from the sun with his arm as he watched the others kill off the rest of the withers, doing their best to keep their attention away from George. Dream was hesitant._

_Bad turned back to them and dropped his arm at the silence. “Dream.” he warned, voice hardly ever dropping to such an octave, and Dream sighed, knowing he had to give in. He was so scared. George was breathing, George had a pulse, so why did it still feel as if he were about to lose him again? He finally nodded, pulling away just enough so that he could still be holding his hand, laying him flat._

_Sam cleared his throat. “Okay, Bad, hold his head, I’ll get his feet. Ready, up.”_

_George was lucky he was so damn light. Dream held his part of the weight gladly, only using one arm to hold him up, wrapped around his waist, while the other remained soundly in his hand. He was alive. Dream had watched him, had stared into his eyes as Techno’s pickaxe pressed flush against his neck, and had watched George_ wait _for him to save him. George’s hand twitched against his._

_Dream had forgotten his mask._

\--

“George, don’t get the switches wet.” Dream called over to him, annoyed, and George turned over his shoulder to glare at him from where Dream was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. George had heaved himself to the bathroom with the intention to wash himself, but it was kind of hard to do that if you couldn’t get your face wet and Dream was watching your every move.

“Dream, I’m covered in blood. I don’t give a shit if my stitches get wet.” George hissed, turning to look at himself in the mirror. Dream tilted his head to the side, staring at him, in the mirror, and George met his eye and smiled, despite himself. Dream’s never gone without a mask this long, and he didn’t want to question why in case he decided to put it back on. 

“You’re such an idiot, let me help you.” Dream sighed, and George narrowed his eyes, not objecting as Dream got closer, hovering just above his shoulder. “Damn, you smell like shit.” Dream said into his hair and George could hear the smile in his voice, and felt his heart jump in his chest when he glanced up in the mirror to see it was true.

“Fine, what do you want to do about it, Mr. I-Know-Everything?” George muttered, finding himself still grinning.

Dream shrugged, smile dissipating. “I don’t know, I could wash your hair and your back,” and after a pause he added, “It would be better than nothing.” 

George pursed his lips. He knew he was right, and it wasn’t as if he had any dignity left to try and protect, especially in front of Dream. Dream’s seen him at his worst, and he supposed that he’s seen Dream at _his_ worst as well.

Minutes later Dream’s netherite armor was off and he was hovering just outside the shower, soap and rag in hand. George was facing the wall, his hand cupping his cheek protectively from the water, lukewarm as it poured down his back.

As expected, if what his face looked like was considered terrible then what had happened on his back was even worse, red marks streaking across, the skin irritated and bruised. It couldn’t feel good, and Dream pitied him as he began to wipe him down. George shivered at the contact and pressed his forehead to the tiled wall. Dream’s hands felt nice on his back, despite the pain, and if George could keep them there he would.

There were never nice touches anymore, involving George. He’d get thrown around, he’d be punched in the shoulder as a joke and accidentally stumble to catch himself… but with Dream it was different. Dream did shove him because he thought it was funny, but Dream had also hugged him when he needed it, murmured affirmations when the day was especially rough, and now he was washing what George couldn’t reach _willingly._

George turned over his shoulder. “Are you done?” He teased, pretending to be annoyed, and Dream made a face.

“Don’t move, I’m doing your hair.” He said with less malice then George expected, dropping his rag to the floor and pouring the soap into his hands. He’d taken off his sweatshirt, only in his muscled undershirt. The bright sweatshirt was to divert attention. You couldn’t tell how fit he was, you couldn’t tell how muscled his arms were, you couldn’t tell unless you knew. George supposed that he knew.

George shut his eyes and swallowed down his pride, dropping his shoulders and not caring how sad or helpless he looked, caved in on himself, cheek pressed to the tile away from Dream. He hurt. And no, he probably didn’t realize how much he hurt yet, not just physically but _emotionally._ He hadn’t allowed himself to think in the last hour how he felt about Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl other than he and Dream’s clipped conversation that neither of them wanted to continue.

George was thankful for the spray of the shower drowning out most of the noise. He’s not sure what he would’ve done with Dream so close, leaning from the outside in, crowding him without realizing, without the noise of the shower. And Dream’s hands tousling through his hair and massaging his scalp felt nice. The whole not-being-touched-for-months thing was beginning to catch up with him in ways he needed to suppress, biting down chirps of happiness but smiling willingly into the wall.

And then the hands were gone and George had to fix his expression, covering his cheek with a hand and tilting his head back into the water. When he opened his eyes Dream was gone; he’d left the room and had shut the door behind him. George sighed to himself and toweled off, staring again at his reflection in the mirror.

 _Why_ did he still look so terrible? He thought a shower would fix everything he saw wrong, pretending all of it didn’t exist, but he looked awful. Why’d he look so pale, why was he covered in bruises, why did he look so _sad?_ George grumbled to himself and tugged on the borrowed clothes Dream had left him, probably Skeppy’s, as they were around the same size, and just because he could he grabbed Dream’s sweatshirt without thinking and threw it overhead. He’s just about to grab the knob of the door and pull it open to voice his frustrations when he hears a knock on the other side of the room, where Bad had left earlier. He paused.

“What?” Dream’s voice.

“Dude, let me in.”

George listened to the door creak from inside the bathroom, straining to catch their voices.

“Hey man, I have information about the… where’s your mask?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Dream grumbled, and the man took it in stride.

“Okay, well I came to let you know that we just finished killing off the withers. They only got into the unused land behind the portal, nothing too serious, should be fixed tomorrow without anyone knowing.”

“Where’s Quackity?”

“We’re not sure, we’re searching,” He paused. “What do you want us to do if we find them?”

“Send them to the prison.” Dream quipped immediately, and George flinched.

“...We can’t just do that without a trial, Dream.”

“They’ve committed acts of terrorism and treason, that should be more than enough.” Dream said, and the man hesitated.

“I mean, if you say so, man.” He muttered, and George opened the door. “But--”

Punz whipped around to face him, eyes wide. He turned to Dream in anger. “Fuck, Dream, you didn’t tell me he’d be in here.”

Dream sighed, exasperated. “Where else would he be?” Dream looked George up and down, as if he were looking for something George couldn’t see. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” He grouched stubbornly.

Punz raised a brow. “He’s with us?” He asked, and Dream glared at him as if he’d stepped over an imaginary line. Before Dream could say anything else George cut him off.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” George said, narrowing his eyes at the pair of them. Punz met his eye.

“Fine. George, are you with us?” Punz asked.

Dreams’ hands twitched as his sides. “Punz.” He warned, and Punz met his glare without hesitation, crossing his arms pointedly.

“What do you mean?” George asked, their attention turned back to him, and Dream looked to the side as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing and wanted no part in it.

“Are you _with_ us? El’ Rapids betrayed you, George. Are you really going to go back to them, or are you going to stick with _us_ , the people who actually give a shit about what happens to you?” Punz asked, and George flinched at his tone. Dream looked like he was about to interject again, openly concerned and distressed for him. George had to look away.

“I’m with you.” He blurted, and he watched Dream’s eyes go wide with surprise, any venom threatening to spew from his mouth to tell off Punz dying on his lips. Punz’ expression was blank.

“You’re positive?”

George nodded slowly. “You’re right they…” He swallowed. “They _left_ me, they _used_ me, why would I trust them anymore? I almost died today.” George admitted, not only to Punz but himself, too, feeling his cheeks burn at the realization. He’d laid there hopeless, in front of the portal after Technoblade had hurt him, and what did they all do? Sapnap had moved to attack Technoblade, but for fear of his own life he didn’t, and then all three of them ran from him, leaving him there, _alone._

Dream could tell just by looking that he was getting worked up, and cleared his throat. “Is that good enough for you, Punz?” He seethed, and Punz didn’t say anything. “Find them.” Dream ordered, and Punz nodded and left without another word, not before pointedly meeting George’s eye again, shutting the door behind him.

His voice softened. “George?”

“Leave me alone.” George huffed, walking past Dream and standing at the foot of the bed, his back to him and his arms crossed. Dream sighed, and George heard the lock of the door slide back into place. A precaution, he guessed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears not to come, willing Dream not to question him any further. Why was everyone lying all the time? Punz was supposed to be an ally, but the whole time he’d hung out with those at El’ Rapids he’d been a spy? He’d gone to Sapnap’s house, gone out for drinks with them, all under the guise of friendship? And Quackity and Sapnap’s empty promise of how he wouldn’t get hurt led him to almost dying less than five hours ago.

Dream crossed the room, ignoring his request. He tugged on George’s sleeve, pulling him in, and George caved. The tears came, the anger came, the anguish came pouring without pause. He buried himself in Dream’s arms, not caring how he looked crying, not caring how he sounded crying. Dream’s arms were tight around him, holding him close enough to hurt, chin on the top of his head.

He sobbed.

“It’s so _stupid_.” George gasped into Dream’s chest, unable to calm, suddenly bawling. Dream rubbed at his back silently. “Why am I so upset over _Sapnap?_ Why can’t I hate him, why can’t I calm down? I _didn’t_ die today, so why am I so upset that I almost did?” George babbled nonsense, voice cracking and pitching. It was ugly crying, George’s face a mess, _George,_ a mess.

Dream hummed above him, and George could feel it from where his head was pressed against his chest, Dream entrapping him, holding him and refusing to let go. George’s ribs were still a dull ache, but for the time being, in Dream’s arms, Dream’s warmth around him, he could forget.

“Why can’t I be happy, why is it always my fault?” George continued rhetorically. “The moment I try to help I’m just used as a pawn for someone else’s pleasure. I was married for political gain, I was blamed for not fighting in the war or being a part of Manberg, and _now_ I was used as a hostage. What the fuck am I meant to do?” George sobbed, begging Dream for an answer, begging Dream to tell him it was okay, to give him some sort of solace he’d gone without for months.

Dream pulled away from him, and George looked up with big, brown eyes, face red and cheeks soaked through with tears. He found himself clinging tighter, willing Dream not to move away any more from him. Dream smiled down at him weakly. His face was strained with sympathy in a way that he must have understood.

“I’m not using you, George.” He whispered, voice hoarse. “I don’t want to use you.” He murmured, and George tilted his head forward with a sigh, further into his chest, allowing him to continue. “It never mattered to me before what you did. I didn’t _care_ that you got married to Ninja, I didn’t _care_ that you were Quackity’s vice president in the election, and I didn’t _care_ that you joined El’ Rapids. But now? Now that Quackity thinks he can just blow up shit and cause trouble and _hurt you,_ I _am_ going to step in and you can’t stop me from doing that.” 

“Why?” George choked, needing to hear it from him, hands scrambling for purchase on Dream’s back, flat against the thick, elastic fabric.

“Because as much as I fuck around with Tommy I actually _care_ about what happens to you.” Dream murmured softly, fingers threading through the hairs at the back of his neck, still wet from the shower. “I care about you and Sapnap _a lot._ ” 

George looked up at him. “You care about me?” He asked, voice small, only a mumble in the fabric of Dream’s shirt. He wouldn’t lie to him now, not when George was having the equivalent to a mental breakdown. Dream’s hand shifted in his hair, tracing down and cupping his cheek without the scar, forcing him to meet his eye. George looked.

“How could I _stop_ caring?” He asked, and George began to grin wildly, unable to stop the giddy laughter bubbling up from his chest or the smile splitting his face in half. He didn’t even have it in him to call him an ugly name as a retort, tears continuing to stream down his cheeks, chest heaving with relieved sobs. And Dream was laughing along with him, light, comforting laughter that was inviting, that George never wanted to leave.

Dream didn’t care about how awful and prudish George could be, didn’t care about how terrible he looked or sounded crying, didn’t care how weak he may be… he cared about the good in George, George’s happiness, George’s love and his smile, all of their memories together. Dream cherished him, the only facet to Dream’s slew of friends who could thwart his plans in a minute if he wanted, tearing Dream apart only to build him back up again, worrying him to pieces and rendering him unable to think. George was Dream’s _weakness,_ he cared that much. Dream cared too much for George’s health, his loving. Nothing mattered _more_ than George. And George cared too.

Dream’s thumb ran across his cheek and George couldn’t suppress the dizzy impulsiveness swimming through his head and fluttering through his nerves, wanting more than what was appropriate to ask. He had always wanted Dream, had always wanted too much. His hands dropped to Dream’s waist and pulled without thinking, but the friction was good and Dream’s surprised inhale by his temple was even better, and George doesn’t regret it. Dream glady turned his head to kiss him there, George’s hands on his sides encouraging him to leave more, planting kiss after kiss to his forehead, leaning down to place them on his eyes, kiss at his nose, kiss at his cheeks before seizing his lips, George laughing all the while, Dream’s hands moving to cradle his face.

Dream was gorgeous, George feeling his smile as he kissed, the adoration in his lips as Dream tilted his jaw backward with a strong hand, smothering any tune he was singing, paying gratuitous attention to his tongue as it swirled along with his. George kissed him back, head lolling to the side, and Dream sighed, a pretty note in George’s ear. He loved Dream so much. He had loved him for so _long_. And now that Dream was here, pressed flush against him due to George holding him there, he couldn’t begin to contain his feelings of bliss, not bothering to brood over all of the lost time all of these years, or the memories of laughter and tenderness that had extinguished too soon.

Dream swiped a kiss at the corner of his mouth before pulling away, staring down at him as if he couldn’t believe that they had just done that, that George had not only let him kiss him but instigated it, too. George’s tongue swiped across his bottom lip, and he found himself letting go of Dream’s waist.

“Shit.” Dream choked, and George beamed up at him. It was rare for Dream to be rendered speechless, so very confident and well-spoken at seemingly every waking minute, but George has succeeded in stealing all of his words, all of his needlessly flirty one-liners that always hit and that George had never attempted to counter. Until now, he supposed.

George pushed and Dream abided, the hand on Dream’s chest inciting him to lay down on the bed behind him, George quickly following and landing in his lap, elated to the point of no return. He smiled down at Dream who was scarlet beneath him, hands falling underneath George’s thighs and sharing his stupid, dopey smile.

George leaned over him, pressing a strand of hair out of his eye with his thumb and index finger. As a tease, he pressed his lips to his nose and Dream hummed in delight, thumbs rubbing endless circles through his sweats. George giggled.

“Do you like that, Dream?” George murmured, lips brushing over the mangled mess of his nose, and Dream sighed again, a flutter of anxiety in his voice, shattering the sound into intermittent pieces, unable to raise his voice to a simple “Mhm.” George giggled and Dream’s hand rose to drag his thumb across the right side of his jaw, passing gently over the stitches before sliding into his hair. 

George captured his lips in his again, letting both the feeling of Dream’s hand on his thigh and his hand pulling on his hair distract him from the ache of his ribs and the drumming in his head. George kissed him to the brink of death, any overlooked passion spilling until Dream had to turn away, heaving for air, freckled cheeks painted with a deep red.

At Dream’s silence, George cupped the side of his face with his hand. It was cool against his skin, and Dream leaned into it voluntarily, golden eyes bright and wanting. George giggled at him again. “I think I like you more with the mask off.” George grinned, and Dream cursed under his breath.

“Maybe I should take off even more.” He retorted breathlessly, his words losing their usual sting, but George gasped in surprise anyway, batting at him playfully.

“You’re terrible.” George scoffed, and Dream laughed hard beneath him, jostling him.

“You love me.” He grinned and George sighed with a shake of his head.

He couldn’t contain his smile. “I do.”

\--

_“Why do you think I shouldn’t be king anymore?”_

_“I think that you would be safer if you--if you were not, right?” Dream said, and George knew he was eyeing him as if he were insane under his mask._

_George pressed. “Why are people trying to kill me just because I’m king, why is that?”_

_“Well… because… well. Technoblade doesn’t like the government, and everyone else... just hate_ me. _And then therefore they don’t like you,” Dream sighed. “Look, because Eret isn’t at the best odds with me right now he’s kind of perfect. They’re not going to attack him, because it wouldn’t really matter that much to me.”_

_…_

_“George, Dream say he didn’t care about anything on this SMP. That just means he doesn’t care about us.” Sapnap grabbed his arm protectively._

_“I wasn’t--I didn’t_ actually _mean I don’t care about anything.” Dream scoffed. Sapnap was turning something he was saying to Tommy as an _exaggeration_ against him._

_“Why’d you say it, then?” George asked. Quackity was hovering behind them, listening attentively._

_Dream talked without thinking. “Listen, the reason I’m even saying George should step down as king is because I _care about him._ ”_

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’ALL I hope this was a satisfying end asdfghjkl; please let me know if I should add “happy ending” to the tags or if I should make everyone else who reads suffer through the same suspense :,D I plan to write more for this fandom so keep an eye out ^^
> 
> As thank always you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you on those sites or even in the comments! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Love you all and hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> EDIT: I continued this story!! Below here you should be able to click a button that says something along the lines of “Next work in the series!” If not, the continuation is titled “when everything becomes too much”


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